The Sea is a Good Place to Think
by Maffiette
Summary: Sometimes, in order to make our decisions, we need to stop and think. An Angel/Hanna is not a Boy's Name Crossover. Rated T for Worth's mouth and romances


**All characters belong to the amazing Tessa Stone. **

**Pairs have yet to be decided, so keep yerr pants on. Angel/Hanna is not a Boy's Name crossover. You heard me, its gonna happen. **

**Please note that with this crossover, I will be changing a few things. The story takes place in an unknown city, simply because I want a winter setting and LA is far too warm. It's also an unknown time period around 1990-2010 because I don't want to separate Conrad from his technology. **

**Takes place between Season 1 and Season 2 of angel...for now**

**Hope you enjoy! :3**

**The Sea is a Good Place to Think**

**Chapter One**

The temperature was brutally cold outside, but the harsh winter climate was nothing new to mankind. For centuries man has been evolving and adapting to suit colder and colder climates. Clothes were primarily invited to protect human bodies from the. In door heating was another effective method of combating the dropping temperatures. Some people simply turned to drinking.

Luckily, _Caritas_ was well stocked with indoor heating and even more stocked with alcohol.

The night club was particularly stuffy that evening. A cool breeze ran through a section of the club every time someone came trotting down the stairs, but aside from that the air was stale and thick with heat. Bodies crowded themselves around the table, moving vigorously and cheering loudly which contributed greatly to the warmth of the room. The electrical karaoke equipment and heavy lights also gave off their fair share of heat.

"Aren't you warm mister?"

A pretty bartender had one eyebrow raised in question as she continued to dry and stack glasses. Her skin emanated an assortment of colors as the lights bounced off the club's multicolour walls. The man sitting across from her was dressed in a heavy orange turtle neck with what looked like an even heavier vest over top. His cheeks were flushed, but the girl couldn't tell if it was from the heat or from his drink.

"No, I'm completely comfortable."

"Suit yourself." The girl mumbled, chewing her bubble gum loudly between words. She finished off a glass and set her rag down on the edge of the counter, filling said glass with sparkling water. The bartender topped the glass with a wedge of lemon and set it down next to Abner's nearly empty glass. He eyed it suspiciously.

"You can't seriously expect me to drink _that?"_

The waitress huffed, and set her hands on her hips. "Y'know, I really can."

Abner was used to the attitudes of the _Caritas _employees. They had a tendency to be short tempered or snappy, but when Abner noticed that his drink remained un- replaced he grew concerned. The blonde bartender had wandered to the other end of the bar counter to finish her work. As she washed she leaned on the edge of the counter, starring off towards the stage with a dreamy look in her eyes.

Sometimes, Abner was unsure why he even bothered to visit the Karaoke bar. For the most part, it was filled with talentless hacks that could barely screech let alone sing. Some days however, days like today, _Caritas _managed to attract a little talent. The boy on stage was blurry from where Abner sat (or maybe that was just the alcohol) but he sang with a clear, smooth voice. From what Abner could tell from the waitresses face, he had the pop star good looks to match his voice.

When the singer finished his country song the small club erupted into cheers, causing Abner to scowl. The commotion was far too much for him after a long day's work. Even when the singers were good, Abner couldn't stand _Caritas. _He was pretty sure the only thing that kept him coming back was the promise of solitude. No matter how drunk the patrons got Abner had never once witnessed a fight break out. It was so peaceful that the club entirely lacked a security staff. Abner could tolerate the noise and occasional dirty glasses (the key word here being tolerate, he never actually drink from them) because it meant he could be alone. He could think to himself without being disturbed, or hit on, or possibly even spilt on. Or so he thought.

Somewhere in his inner musings Abner had lost himself, so much so that he didn't noticed the lanky figure striding towards him. He swooped in silently next to Abner, leaning coolly against the bar. He we defiantly good-looking, with rich brown hair that fell handsomely across his face. He drummed his fingers nervously on the counter top, but when he glanced across to Abner he had hard-set determination in his eyes.

"You Abner VanSlyk?" the man asked, his voice immediately pulling at Abner's curiosity. When he sung his voice was deep in quality and soul, but when he spoke it was deep in tone and note. He spoke with the voice of a smoker, not a singer. Abner was now sure he knew what it would sound like if sand paper could talk, although it would have had to be a very dignified piece of sandpaper. Abner noted curtly.

"Good," the man grumbled, throwing an arm over the counter and snapping his fingers. The blonde bartender from before looked up, blushed slightly and bounced over.

" Carly, new drinks for me and my friend."

"I am not your friend, Mr...?"

"Lindsey," The man concluded, handing Abner a small business card from the front pocket of his dark dress shirt. "Lindsey McDonald, I'm a lawyer with Wolfram & Hart."

"Can I get you anything else?" Carly had arrived with twin glasses of gin and tonic, and was using a much more sugary tone of voice than the one Abner had heard. Lindsey curtly dismissed her, spreading a bitter scowl across the girl's face.

"Wolfram and Hart? Damn, thought I got rid of you people years ago."

"We hate to disturb you, Mr. VanSlyk, but we may have a challenge for you. I hear you're one hell of a vampire killer." There was a pause in which Abner laughed, reassuring Lindsey in his assumption. "Well, we need you to get something for us. It's not exactly vampire related, but get it done and we can point you in the direction of a good chase."

Just as Abner was beginning to get interested, Lindsey stopped. The musician turned and Abner followed, finding one of the waitresses standing behind them. She was mildly short and had a girlish face with pink cheeks. Her hair, a deep but natural red color, was cut short in a layered bob. She starred up at Lindsey with a shy but expectant look. '_Not bad,' _Abner thought to himself, '_Not bad taste at all, Mr. MacDonald.'_

"Are you ready to go, Lindsey?"

"No, no, Ciel," Lindsey replied with a friendly tone of voice, patting the girl heartily on the shoulder, "I've actually got a few business things to work on."

"Oh," the girl whispered, a look of sadness over coming her round eyes, "I guess I'll see you later then..."

Lindsey didn't acknowledge her as she left, dragging her feet. He said no good bye as he spun around to get more acquainted with his drink. Abner caught her looking back on her way out, sending Lindsey a similar look as the one Carly had given.

"She's decent," Abner mused, "Shouldn't treat your girl like that."

"Oh her, she's not..." Lindsey trailed off. He avoided Abner's gaze, fingering his glass in thought, but the man could see the determination in Lindsey's eyes flicker to angst.

"A challenge, Mr. MacDonald?" Abner reminded, trying to redirect the conversation.

Lindsey nodded sheepishly and with an affirmative grunt reached into his pants pockets for his wallet. He pulled out another small card from the wallet and handed it to Abner. The card possessed a picture of a young boy, in his late teens, with bright eyes and a jagged smile.

"He's an important part of a divorce case we've been working on. Bring him back to us, and we'll set you up with the best slay of your life."

Abner starred at the picture. The boy in the photo looked like a generally happy person, not the kind of client Wolfram and Hart were usually associated with. Usually Wolfram and Hart busied themselves with criminals and thieves. This boy looked innocent.

"You've got a deal, Mr. Macdonald."


End file.
